#pitd

Humming becoming a bit more strained, Roman didn’t realize how sharply the ground cut off until he stepped onto nothing but air. He yelped, pinwheeling his arms, but his balance failed him and everything became a disorienting jumble of colors as he tumbled down the hill through thorny brush. 

He groaned, lifting his head, and then froze at the sight of another person only feet away. 

The stranger was frozen as well, halfway through the process of stripping a blueberry bush bare. He was dressed in patched-up, worn clothes that seemed entirely out of date. He looked about Roman’s age, and his raven hair spilled over his shoulders haphazardly, more like a disheveled bird’s nest than a regal mane. Roman gaped, and the spell seemed to be broken. The stranger bolted, movements erratic and unnatural. 

“Hey!” Roman jumped to his feet, ignoring the sting of scratches, and charged after him. Though he was sprinting too hard to lift the hagstone steady and look through, he was certain this guy was a fae; who else moved like that? 

The fae was fast, too, and Roman was barely able to keep up with him despite being one of the faster runners in his town. “Come back!” 

As though to spite him, the fae seemed to vanish into thin air between one tree and the next. Roman cursed, stopping to pant with his hands on his knees as he searched for any sign of his quarry. A furious yell made him twist around, just in time to see the fae divebomb him from above, tackling him to the ground. 

“What the-” Roman cut himself off with a screech as he realized that the fae had a knife, and was in the process of trying to stab him. Heart racing, he grabbed at the wrist and twisted harshly, managing to make him drop the weapon with a dull thud. The fae made a feral sound, and his other hand latched onto Roman’s neck with surprising strength for his skinny frame. 

Unfortunately for him, Roman had been taking wrestling classes since he was five. He knew how to grapple, and grapple he did, grabbing and kicking and rolling in the dirt like they were schoolboys in a tussle. The fae’s consistent attempts to disembowel him sort of ruined the illusion. 

Eventually, he finally managed to pin the other boy by the shoulders, sitting on his bony torso with his full weight. “Hey- listen-” The fae snarled and snapped, thrashing wildly, and Roman grit his teeth and pulled out his last resort, a small vial full of petals. He lifted it to his mouth to tug the cork out and dumped the red petals on the fae’s face. 

The fae did stop struggling, expression confused, but showed absolutely no aversion to the plant, trying to blow the petals off his mouth with small puffs of air. Roman sat back, stunned, and finally lifted the hagstone to look at the stranger. Nothing. 

“You’re human!” He said, almost accusing. The stranger squinted at him. 

“Uh, duh. Why else would you be chasing me, you freaky Sidhe?” He spoke, voice worn and wary and not at all lyrical as Roman had expected. His brain stalled. 

“What? I’m human.” He said, wondering if he’d hit the guy’s head against the ground too hard. 

“Are not.” 

“Are too!” 

“Are not.” 

“Are too!” 

The stranger huffed. “Look, I’ve been dodging fae my whole life. I know how to spot them, and I don’t care how thick your glamor is, I can smell the magic on you.” 

“Your nose must be broken, then. Or your brain.” Roman sniffed, turning his nose up, and then jumped about a foot in the air when the stranger blew one of the petals at him. He scrambled back, glowering. 

“Stop that! I’m allergic!” 

The jerk raised an eyebrow at him, rolling back to his feet in an uncannily smooth movement, and Roman watched him warily as he snatched his dagger from the ground and shoved it back into its sheath. “The heck do you mean, you’ve been running from fae, anyways? Didn’t your parents teach you how to ward them off?” His own parents talked about little else, some days.

The stranger’s expression cooled a few degrees. “They would’ve been pretty bad at it, seeing as they didn’t ward the fae off well enough to keep them from taking me.”

Roman’s eyes grew wide. “You’re a stolen child!” He’d never known someone could survive being taken!

“Ding, ding, ding.” The stranger replied, voice irritated. “And you’re a fae, surprise!”

Roman frowned, matching the stranger’s scowl. He had weird allergies, so what? “I am not! I think I’d know if I was a fae. You’re just paranoid from running around in the woods like a forest creature.”   

The stranger turned away with a scoff, and Roman hurried after him. He wasn’t letting someone this interesting get away without a fight. “Wait up!” 

“What do you want.”

“I want to be friends!” Roman darted in front of him and stuck a hand out, giving him a charming smile. “I’m Roman!”

The stranger remained stubbornly uncharmed, looking at Roman’s hand as though it had personally wronged him. “You can call me Anxiety.” 

Roman’s brow furrowed as the stranger- Anxiety stepped around him. “That sounds like a fake name.” 

“Are you telling me people in your town just go around giving their real names to strangers?” Anxiety shot back, still walking. “Cuz that would be monumentally stupid.” 

Roman shrugged. “Touché, I guess.” He trailed after Anxiety, humming absently, and then jumped when his guide twisted around sharply to face him.  

“Why are you following me?” He asked, body tense. Roman blinked at him, and then scuffed his shoe against the dirt in embarrassment. 

“Well… I’m sort of lost…”